


some crap about the furniture

by seafoamblues



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Roommates, Shitty Oneliners, Slice of Life, adapted fic, fuckbombs is a word, like one brief mention of sexual content, there's a tasteless reference to roadkill i'm sorry, this takes place in new york for some reason, weird experimental kind of writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8362771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seafoamblues/pseuds/seafoamblues
Summary: The rain brought him here and it keeps bringing him back. Kyungsoo can't decide whether Chanyeol is a welcome presence or not.





	

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from my [livejournal](http://seafoamblues.livejournal.com/1478.html). you can also read this on [aff](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/835590/some-crap-about-the-furniture-chansoo-exo-chanyeol-kyungsoo).
> 
> i adapted a kingdom hearts fanfic i wrote back in 2007. take it as you will.

* * *

 

He can't remember clearly how it began, or how it ended.  
  
This is hazy: a recollection of a rainy day. Fragmented memories of waiting out on the curb for the 7:15 bus to arrive. There he stands, the ground slick and wet, but he has his rain boots on (that he'll change out of once he gets to work, of course) so it's okay. Everything's fine. Minding his own business. Hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, fingers clinging to the loose threads buried deep inside along the seams.  
  
He had forgotten his umbrella.  
  
His bangs are in his face, water dripping down into his eyes. His saturated eyebrows, no matter how thick they may be, are no means of protection. Lifting up an arm, he swats the hair away and soaks up the moisture with his sleeve. Minutes later, his hair is stuck uncomfortably to his forehead. He blinks and glances at his watch. 7:13.  
  
If the rain decides to fall more heavily in the next two minutes, he'll end up at the office looking like a drowned rat.  
  
He prays that, at worst, he'll just be wearing the wet dog look.  
  
Maybe neither. He's handed an umbrella and a smile from a tall man that swaggers up to him, and his fingers close around the base with mixed gratefulness and perplexity. Such kindness in a place like this, to a person like him, is unexpected.  
  
After his initial surprise, he shrugs the gesture off as the lanky giant merely taking pity on him.  
  
But he doesn't leave after that. For some unknown reason, the stranger sits down next to him once they board. There are plenty of seats. He could have chosen any other seat.  
  
"Hi."  
  
At first he contemplates not responding. However, despite his surroundings, his upbringing forces him to be polite. He shifts slightly to the right, closer to the window, pressing his shoulder against the cool glass.  
  
"'Morning," he murmurs quietly, a contrast to the man's low pitch yet cheerful tone.  
  
"I'm Chanyeol." He holds out his hand.  
  
When he makes no move to shake it (the rain's put him in a bad mood and he's too untrusting and indifferent and hey, thanks for the umbrella but honestly, you're sort of annoying and it's too fucking early for this), Chanyeol begins to withdraw his hand, and then looks past him and out the window.  
  
"Holy fuckbombs, look. That building's collapsing right before our eyes."  
  
He can see the reflection of his golden-brown hair in the glass, falling in locks and curls across his brow. His eyes don't see the clouds of demolition dust billowing across the street.  
  
"You don't see that every day," he adds.  
  
"Yes you do. This is New York."  
  
Destroy the old and make room for the new.  
  
That's the last time he speaks on the bus.  
  
—  
  
By the time he's let off of work, the rain has stopped but Chanyeol has not. He's managed to make it through two stops on the bus ride home before he spots the man ducking his head through the door and walking toward him. Oh no.  
  
"I'm from Vermont."  
  
Chanyeol has followed him out at his stop. _I think I'm being stalked._  
  
"Interesting. You don't look like a farm fellow to me," he mutters out of the corner of his mouth, only talking because he's irritated by this strange character. He has brown eyes that light up and grow too wide when he's excited and they're warm and friendly and inviting and he doesn't like them, he decides, not one bit.  
  
"I'm not. What makes you think that?"  
  
"Just a guess."  
  
—  
  
Somehow, he ends up in his home.  
  
Then sometime later, his bed.  
  
And, damn it all, but he tells him his name afterwards.  
  
—  
  
The couch is a deep navy and has a history of being well-used. Right now he's lying on it, peering out from behind his arm at the other man that frequents his apartment and raids his kitchen.  
  
"When are you going to leave?" His voice is weary.  
  
Chanyeol balances a Pepsi and a massive bag of chips in his arms and stands there awkwardly for a moment.  
  
"What, Kyungsoo, are you getting tired of me?"  
  
He chooses not to reply: the answer is palpable. Instead he grabs the opened Pepsi can and takes a long swig. The sweetness burns and it's almost nauseating, but he chokes it down. Chanyeol grins.  
  
—  
  
He stares longingly out the water-streaked window.  
  
"Why does it always rain here, Kyungsoo?"  
  
Because the sky is crying, his mother used to tell him.  
  
—  
  
One night Chanyeol hears a cat yowling outside and takes it upon himself to help the miserable creature. Even though he's (deathly) allergic, he plugs his nose and braves Kyungsoo's impending wrath when he takes one of his choice cuts of steak out of the freezer and tosses it on the doorstep. It clatters on the ground in front of the mangy feline, layered with frost.  
  
He leaves the door wide open and Kyungsoo inevitably notices. With a yell, he dives to save the still thoroughly-frozen slab of meat, causing the cat to jump.  
  
Sending Chanyeol to return the steak to its rightful place, he scratches behind the tabby's ears while it rubs up against his leg, asking for something actually edible.  
  
He won't help Kyungsoo but he'll help a cat that can send him to the hospital.  
  
—  
  
"Since you don't want me here anymore, I'm going to Texas."  
  
"And you think Texas is the answer to all your problems?"  
  
"Shit, yes. I can run over the state animal without getting arrested. It's like an extremely violent real life video game."  
  
He walks out the door and walks out of his life for a blessed two months.  
  
—  
  
"Kyungsoo, come look at this! I have armadillo guts all over my car!"  
  
He's back.  
  
—  
  
Chanyeol really has to leave.  
  
Kyungsoo can only deal with him for three more weeks at most. His presence is a constant distraction. He tears through the small apartment, demanding attention, sharing his bed and refusing to sleep on the couch. He strums his beaten-up guitar at obscene hours of the morning. The man's clothes reek of the cigarettes he smokes, and there is always the smell of his cologne clinging to his mouth, his nose, his skin.  
  
But without him, the apartment feels unusually empty. And there are ghosts.  
  
Chanyeol is clearly/unclearly unwelcome/welcome.  
  
—  
  
Maybe he doesn't have the heart to kick him out because the sex is good.  
  
They are both passionate lovers, hissing and spitting and clawing at each other's backs, tussling in bed like mountain lions fighting over a piece of meat. Their teeth leave marks, their fingers bruise. Kyungsoo kisses like he needs him and Chanyeol kisses like he wants to own him.  
  
—  
  
He finds this text on his cell phone:  
  
_do u love me? y/n_  
  
He locks the door that night and Chanyeol stands out in the rain for hours before Kyungsoo gives in.  
  
—  
  
"Oh shit, I dropped my lighter."  
  
There is a crackling noise from inside the wastebasket.  
  
Two seconds later, it bursts into flames.  
  
Chanyeol watches, dumbstruck and horrified, as it catches on the shoelace hanging off the desk. It slithers up the rope with terrifying speed, encircling it with red-orange flames. Then the desktop goes up.  
  
It was old anyway.  
  
Kyungsoo's apartment is burning.  
  
Said owner is in the kitchen. He runs out and yells at Chanyeol to beat down the flames while grabbing a towel to smother the smaller sparks.  
  
Chanyeol starts to blow on it. Of course, it only spreads.  
  
Then he moves onto cups of water.  
  
Somewhere, sirens ring like lullabies.  
  
—  
  
Kyungsoo is coughing and wheezing, suffering through intense stomach spasms from inhaling too much smoke. Chanyeol carries him out of the building, breathing easily and almost entirely unaffected.  
  
"I never told you that I wanted to be a fireman when I was a kid," he blabbers as Kyungsoo is struggling between consciousness and unconsciousness. "Then later I just wanted to be an arsonist."  
  
But he swears he didn't purposely set his apartment on fire. "After all, it's my home, too."  
  
The other occupants stand like lost, misguided sheep outside on the sidewalk. Chanyeol joins the evacuated crowd and puts Kyungsoo down on the grass, where he rolls over onto his side and begins to retch, chest heaving.  
  
"He's overly-dramatic," Chanyeol explains.  
  
—  
  
Chanyeol never apologizes, even though it was his mistake.  
  
Truthfully, it was Kyungsoo's. He should have never let him into his life.  
  
—  
  
The couch is the only thing salvaged.  
  
They're in a new apartment on the other side of the city.  
  
"I heard this one's fireproof. It's been through like a million fires, but it's never burned down," Chanyeol tells him smugly. He sits down at the foot of the couch.  
  
Kyungsoo kicks him sharply in the hip.  
  
—  
  
_let's drive 2 pensylvania_  
_pensylvana*_  
_dammit_  
_stupid figners_  
  
_I'd rather not._  
  
—  
  
There's no more time.  
  
Chanyeol thinks they've got all the time.  
  
—  
  
Chanyeol is packing.  
  
"Where are you going now?"  
  
"California."  
  
"Why there?"  
  
"I want to see the mountains."  
  
—  
  
Chanyeol is gone for two weeks.  
  
Chanyeol is gone for three.  
  
Now six.  
  
—  
  
Half a year later, Kyungsoo's moved on. He's been promoted at his job and is too busy to think much about the past. The stranger who handed him an umbrella one rainy day is pushed further and further back in is mind.  
  
When he comes home that evening, he sees a crumpled form on his porch. At first he mistakes it as a pile of old clothes someone has dumped on his welcome mat.  
  
Suddenly, it talks.  
  
"Water," the thing croaks. "Water. _Please_."  
  
He hesitates. There's a part of him that wants to step over the mess and shut the door on it, leaving it as someone else's responsibility.  
  
He ends up retrieving a glass of water.  
  
Kyungsoo tentatively holds it out to the weathered figure, which snatches it out of his hands and greedily gulps the contents down.  
  
"Dammit, Soo, I didn't ask for this crap. I asked for a beer."  
  
He's here again. And Kyungsoo does the strangest thing: he gathers him up in his arms (Chanyeol has lost a surprising amount of weight on his journey but he still has to drag him part-way) and brings him inside.  
  
—  
  
Years go by and he finds another message on his phone.  
  
_I think i'll go to Boston._  
  
And Kyungsoo follows.


End file.
